


Heat Wave

by HPswl_cumbercookie



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Hot Weather, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPswl_cumbercookie/pseuds/HPswl_cumbercookie
Summary: Originally this prompt thing on tumblr was for artists but I was like, naw, send me some emojis and I'll write a ficlet, so thinkanddoodle-batch sent me these three emojis, 🥵🍫🧔, and this is the result. thank you guys so much for reading!





	Heat Wave

To say that it was hot was an understatement. It was a heat wave for the record books. It was getting up to almost 38 degrees and Sherlock was sure he was going to melt any second now, and all he'd done all day was lay around on the sofa wishing they had an air conditioner and cursing the fact that their only fan had taken an unfortunate plummet off of the window ledge last month when he’d decided to enter through that same window instead of the door to the flat to avoid Mycroft, the pompous git. He had enough energy left in him to feel sorry for John, who’d had to wrench himself out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning to go to work, and then would have to take the steaming hot tube home later this evening, hopefully bringing home something to cool them both down. He was just settling in to take a nap to escape the heat when he heard John’s footsteps on the stairs.

 

“John?” He called out, confused. 

 

“Hello love,” John responded as he toed of his shoes. “The air conditioner at the clinic broke down so they had to close early. How are things here?”

 

“Miserable, I’m melting John. Melting!” Sherlock groaned.

 

“I sure hope you’re not,” John murmured low in his ear as he nuzzled a bristly kiss onto Sherlock’s cheek, “Because I brought home your favorite from that posh ice cream parlor to help us both cool down.”

 

“Oh John!” Sherlock murmured, a not unfamiliar heat already dripping through his words, “How you spoil me! How can I ever repay you?” He feigned playfully yet still low with intent.

 

“You can sit right there and help me eat this ice cream before it melts, then we can get onto . . . other things.” John winked through a cheeky smile. Sherlock budged up so John could sit down next to him on the sofa with one spoon and a tub of Chocolate Brownie Swirl. John popped off the top with a  _ poof  _ of releasing air and scooped out a huge bite which he held out to Sherlock invitingly, who scarfed down the bite so fast John blinked with wide eyes, frozen in shock for a moment, before leaning his head back for a long, deep guffaw of laughter. “Hungry, were you?”

 

“Starving John, starving.” Sherlock repeated with another heated gaze. John took his own bite of the ice cream before scooping out another for Sherlock, who, in his haste to eat the enticing cream, managed to smear chocolate all over his mouth. 

 

“Jesus, Sherlock, you’re 36 years old, not 6 years old. You’d think you’d be able to eat ice cream without making a disastrous mess by now.” 

 

“It’s no fun that way John!” Sherlock seemed to smile and pout simultaneously, his eyes glittering with mirth.

 

“Here then, at least let me help get all that chocolate off of your face so you don’t get too sticky.” Sherlock merely hummed in agreement and shut his eyes with a contented smile. He started a little when he felt John’s coarse beard brush against the sensitive skin of his lip as John began to lick and suck at the chocolate beginning to drip down Sherlock’s chin. “Lovely Sherlock, you taste fantastic.” Sherlock once again only hummed in response but his face seemed to flush with a heat that had nothing to do with the waning temperature of the golden air around them as the sun began to settle low in the sky. 

 

When John backed away, deeming him sufficiently cleaned of chocolate, Sherlock grabbed the spoon from him and scooped a chunk of ice cream out and held it out for John. John went to take the bite into his mouth, far slower than Sherlock had, but Sherlock took advantage of the slower pace to smush the helping all through John’s budding whiskers. He then leaned forward and did the same thing to John that John had done to him, only slower and far more sensuously than John had, taking his time with skilled tongue and lips to get all the little brownie crumbs from where they lodged in the hairs, mixing with the slightly salty taste of John’s skin. John moaned indecently and rubbed a hand up and down his thigh to try to control himself, but as Sherlock began to move away from his mouth and down toward his neck the hand moved urgently to Sherlock’s chest to push him backwards just enough to detach him from his neck, where he’d been in the works of leaving a beautiful bruise. “Sherlock,” John whispered breathlessly, “If this is where this is headed I’m going to need you to grab a few flannels, the tub of ice cream, and meet me in the bedroom, preferably undressed, unless you want me to do it. And we can do this properly, maybe even put this lovely new beard to use. Yeah?” 

 

“Oh god yes John.”

 

And that was how, the next day, John had the privilege of attempting to explain to Mrs. Hudson how they got chocolate all over their best set of bed clothes without releasing any of the more . . . explicit details. Let’s just say she was not particularly pleased, John was unbelievably mortified, and Sherlock was giggling like a school kid as John came back up the stairs, face flaming red before he tackled Sherlock to the floor in a giggling, rumbling tangle of limbs. “That’s what you get for giggling at me, Sherlock Holmes!” So they tussled and tumbled and wrestled until they fell to the floor in a breathless heap, shared a deep kiss, and then went about their evening as usual, with takeout, a film that Sherlock ruined the ending for, again, and cuddles on the sofa.

 

_ FIN _

 


End file.
